


Into The Blackest Night

by ryangyh



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryangyh/pseuds/ryangyh
Summary: The Lich's power has malformed and the consequences are deadlier than ever. Nothing makes sense anymore, nothing stays constant; except her. He has to save her, even if it means losing himself in the process. "I am with you, Finn, from now until the end. We're a team."
Relationships: Finn the Human/Marceline
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Into The Blackest Night

It happened in flashes. They had been ambushed and it had all too quickly fallen to shit. They were all exhausted from prior battles; Jake was waning quickly, energy fairly spent from fighting and reforming himself into various items and shapes, a gash on his temple still steadily bleeding.

Marceline needed to feed and, despite their arguments, refused to feed from either him while they were still injured.

As for Finn, he was dealing with a pained chest and shallow breathing, likely from some sort of fracture to his ribs, from a few too many hits that he wouldn't allow Marceline to heal just yet. All he had wanted to do was sit his ass in front of a merry fire with Jake and Marceline next to him and sleep until all his hurts had lessened.

Instead, here they were, weary and drawn thin, fighting another group of the Lich's lackies for the third time that night. The Lich'd been growing more and more irritated with them as time went on and they disposed of every soldier and hell beast he sent after them. At first, Finn thought it was some sort of lumped up test, but now… now, whatever usefulness they might have had to the Lich was squashed under its desire to remove them from the land of Ooo.

It's a symphony of the clattering of swords and vampiric snarls and the soft tearing of muscle sinew. Finn is caught in the whirlwind, lashing out with the Night Sword, arm shaking with exertion. He ducks and dodges and moves together with Marceline and Jake in a mockery of a dance. Shrieks echo into the night as his blade meets flesh, as magical fire wraps around them like chains, as a red battle-axe swings back and forth.

Finn isn't sure how long they'd been fighting when his vision starts blurring. He feels a blow coming towards him and dodges too slowly, catching it on the side of his forehead, in the same place Jake had just a few hours earlier. He's disoriented, blood rushing in his ears and pouring down his face. The Night Sword is thrown from his grip and his breath catches as he pulls his short sword from its sheath, lunging at the creature.

It goes down screaming as he slices into it.

Just as they start thinning the crowd, Finn dripping with sweat and viscera and exhaustion, another wave appears, and he curses loudly. Despite his failing vision, he can see Jake faltering, can see Marceline's unnatural paleness and the shaking in her hands.

It hits him, then, like jumping into a river in the middle of winter. It chills him to the bone and makes his heart clench with an emotion he does not want to name. He fights with a renewed vigour, if only to make time.

He's starting to lose it, lose time, lose himself to the repetition of slashing and slicing and stabbing. Finn's running on instinct, now, to protect the two he could call his friends, his partners, something more than that, something they have yet to speak aloud.

No matter how many they cut down or burn to an ash, more keep coming, and it's _too much_.

" _Go_!" He finally shouts, as their backs brush against each other, "I'll cover, just _get out of here_!"

Marceline snarls, not even forming words as she lashes out to bring down the monsters in front of him. Jake is screaming as he conjures more hammers from fists, slamming it into the horde, weaker than before.

"We are _not_ leaving you!"

Finn's sight darkens and blurs and he yells as claws or a sword catches him in the abdomen. He's sent stumbling, trying to right himself only to pitch forward as something hard hits the back of his head. The ground comes flying toward his face and, like the dumbass he is, he tries to stop himself with his hands rather than rolling into the blow. Pain lances up his wrist and into his forearm and he _knows_ he's fractured something. Vertigo and nausea pull at him. The world tilts and he retches despite not having eaten for more than a day, now. He scrambles up after expelling the remainder of his stomach bile, switching his short sword to his uninjured hand and moves.

He slashes out, bisecting the palm of the creature reaching out towards him. It gives an otherworldly wail and Finn bares down on it, stabbing forward and drawing the sword through its torso.

Time is acting strangely, in retrospect, but he keeps fighting. He continues getting littered with scratches and cuts from creatures he doesn't remember getting close, and they appear to be getting wounds that he doesn't remember causing.

Finn can hear Marceline's pained hisses and see the aftereffect of red eyes and viscera smeared fangs, of bloodstained claws. Jake is shouting words that keep cutting off, words that his mind cannot seem to process despite knowing the language.

He turns, trying to find the words to shout back at them and he is caught by a solid blow to his face and his vision goes black.

Finn's head is swimming. He barely feels the throbbing pain in his side as he collapses onto the hard ground. It's nearly impossible to claw his way back up and the hell creatures take advantage when he gets halfway up. Something hard connects with the back of his knee and he falls, once again. He dry heaves after his head hits the earth with too much force, agony rushing through his side.

Someone's snarl rips through the air and he's is not sure if it's Marceline's or one of the beasts. Honestly, Finn is too busy trying not to lose his guts or die to really pay much attention. He can feel himself getting colder, something both Jake and Marceline would attribute to how much blood he's lost. That does not explain why the ground beneath him and the area as a whole seems to be gaining a chill.

His senses are completely shot. The earth beneath his hands seem to be changing between warm, blood-soaked dirt and cold, sharp twigs and leaves. His hearing fades from harsh battle to silence, a terrifying juxtaposition. He tries to call out when he hears the sharp clang of a sword on claws, tries to bring the creatures attention to him so that Marceline and Jake can get out while they still can.

It works, Glob help him. Finn can hear the beasts coming toward him, can hear their snorting and snuffling. He can almost make out Marceline's raised voice before one of the creatures digs its claws into his clothes, into his skin, and tosses him directly into a tree. Trying to muffle his shout of pain is pointless, now, so he doesn't. He hits the tree chest first and he feels the fracture in one of his ribs snap. Finn chokes on his breath as he lands on his back and tries his best not to curl into himself. He's gotten enough lectures from Jake to know not to risk puncturing his lung.

He's not sure how long it takes him to realize he's in the silence again. His eyes are hazed by pain and exhaustion and his own blood, but he can still just barely make out the head of raven coming toward him, the moonlight above casting a halo onto Marceline— no, Marcy.

Best he can tell, they're alone, and Finn always did hate keeping up pretences.

Marcy is approaching him, her shadow tall and imposing and Finn feels cold and numb and _angry_. Jake isn't with her. _Jake isn't with her_.

He tries to catch his breath to speak but ends up coughing, body rocking with searing pain.

All the same, he manages to gasp out his words through the pounding in his head. " _Go back_. Please. _Please_ , you have to. Jake… _Please_ , go back. Go back for Jake, _damn you_. _Leave me_ , get him, _please_."

She stops before him and it's all Finn can do not to let a sob escape. _Why_ was Marcy doing this? Why would she leave Jake and take _him_? Finn knew he was self-sacrificial, but Jake was more important, magic dog? But, no, Marcy is standing several paces from him, not coming closer, not saying anything.

Finn moves his good hand to his wound, gripping it to feel _something_. Anger and pain are making tears spill down his face and he grits his teeth. His thoughts are swirling and clouded, and he feels his grasp on consciousness begin to clip and fade.

" _Globbit_ ," He rasps and wheezes, " _Go_! Find Jake!"

It's too much. _Sensory overload_ , he hears Marcy tell him, that one-night months ago. It is an overload, the pain and the cold and the emotions all wrapped up into one.

Marcy takes a step forward, an angelic figure cut by moonlight, but his shadow stops her from moving any closer. His lips part and, "He's safe, Nightosphere's amulet took him straight to PB."

— **Scene Transition / Twenty Minutes** —

Finn's crumpled face soothed somewhat, groaning as he leaned into his injuries. Marcy looked no better as she limped over and slumped next to him.

Injuries littered his arms and chest, deep lines of torn flesh strewn around, half-hidden behind a patchwork of clothing. Bruises painted his toned torso like mottled, abstract tattoos, some aging out and almost gone while others vivid with purple-black blood pooling fresh beneath the skin. His eyes sunken and shadowed, stared glassily into the distance, as if he'd gone days without sleep.

His fingers were feeling about the grass, twitching nervously. He seemed… exhausted. Spent.

"Too heavy to float? You should've laid off Jake's bacon."

"Zip it, beansprout." She nudged him in the rips and cringed visibly when she felt the minute crack splinter and spider-webbed itself inside his body.

"Funny how things spiral, huh," He managed to gasp out between his raspy breathing. "I just wanted a spaghetti night with us bros, not getting mauled to death by the Lich's goons."

The last of the beasts had seen the pack's number dwindle and decided it was best to retreat for the night. Drafts of cold wind blew against the two, as Marcy huddled closer to Finn for warmth, perks of being human, she mused.

The tears in Marcy's flesh had already started sewing together, grunting in pain when a particularly thick shoulder muscle snapped back into place. Leaning back into Finn's midriff, she heard a soft squelch and dampness. "Finn? Dude, you sweat way too much for an eighteen-year-old."

Silence was the only answer.

"Finn? Finn!" She patted his shoulder, which made his eyes flutter open, hazy and glazed over.

He gave a chuckle as crimson snaked its way out the side of his mouth, "You landed on my puncture wound, That's exactly the jolt of blinding pain I needed to bring me 'round."

"What's wrong? This isn't the first time you've been impaled."

And that's when she saw.

It looked like a little bulge jutting out from his chest, she'd thought it was some armour that he'd been wearing. Her hands turned into claws as she ripped the fabric to ribbons, showing her a sickening sight.

She caught sight of the lines of cut skin that marred his chest. She counted as many as seven long, deep cuts that ran from shoulder to abdomen that curved into his side. They started deep, bloody cuts that turned shallow as they reached his stomach.

The worst was a single broken claw, easily over forty centimeters in length; embedded in his chest. She could see the end of the claw peeking out from his back. Just left of his spine.

"Does it look bad?"

"W-What? No, no, you'll be fine." She choked out.

"You're such a bad… liar."

She gripped his larger hands in her smaller ones, not caring for the broken bones that she could feel so clearly.

The idea of dying was nothing new to Finn, deep down he always knew that his adventures had a undertone of danger, every time he was close to death. Only being able to escape with outside help, or some lucky streak.

Tears streamed down his face as his frustration finally hit its breaking point, the possibility of death and actually dying were two _very_ different things.

Marcy couldn't watch anymore, her hands that were intertwined with his came free as she waited.

Waited as he screamed. As he shrieked. As he roared and slammed his fists onto the dirt.

She waited as he turned his head back towards her. As blue, blue eyes spilled water on her hands. As he worked his mouth to say something, anything. Any of the words bouncing back and forth in his skull and causing him such agony.

She waited as he touched her forearms, the barest hint of a caress. Waited as he stared, at her, through her, into her.

As he snaked his arms around her body and suddenly, violently, pulled her close.

He buried his head in the crook of her neck. Shook in her arms. Inhaled a ragged breath.

And cried and cried and cried.

_What have I done?_

_What have I done?_

And she waited.

She rubbed circles across his spine. Caressed his hair. Rocked side to side, side to side.

Tears dropped into his hair.

Her own tears, unbidden, but she wouldn't let go of him to wipe them away. If she let go, he would disappear. Disappear to some unknown place she couldn't reach, some place where he would lock his heart and let it never be seen.

So she waited.

Eventually, the sobs grew quiet. The shaking stilled. Eventually, he lifted his head, blinking red-rimmed eyes that were still blue as blue as blue.

He caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and turned her head into his palm.

He drew in a trembling breath. His other hand cupped her face. He rubbed the corners of her eyes, smearing the tears gathered there.

She looked at him, through him, into him.

And he felt whole.

He felt real.

And he knew.

"I love you."

Her heart throbbed.

He pressed in closer and she followed him unwittingly.

"I love you," he whispered again.

Her lungs felt close to bursting.

And he waited. Breathing short, heaving breaths. Fingers quivering even as they held her. Lips parted and warm. So warm she felt them radiating with it.

Unsteady even on firm ground, she clutched his arms. Half-lidded eyes stared back at her.

"I love you," he murmured, the words brushing her lips, pressing in closer. Closer.

And something snapped. An audible burst. And she fell into him, onto him, and breathed his air like she was suffocating.

He caught her. With his arms. With his lips. With his heart.

And he was warm. Warm as warm as warm.

She clung to him.

He lifted her to her knees, pressed a hand to her back, the other to her head, and there was warmth and heat and something raw and desperate but so, so sweet.

"I love you," he gasped.

Then kissed her.

"I love you," he rasped.

Then kissed her.

"I love you," he swore.

And she breathed him in as he touched her lips once more.

His touch was gentle, trailing fire across her skin, tingling her nerves, making her gasp, making her ache.

"Marceline." His voice was ragged. Raw. Real. "I love you. So much. So much that it hurts."

Tears sprang from her eyes. He wiped them with his thumbs, but they kept pouring. Finn smiled as he kept wiping them away, waiting.

Waited as she breathed in and out, in and out, even if she didn't have to, to compose herself. He kissed stray tears as he waited. She let out a feeble laugh and tried to wipe her blood from his lips. He kissed her finger, watched as she flushed, and waited— breathing in and out, in and out— for her to speak.

"…I don't want you to die."

Surprise coloured his face for only a moment, a slight furrow of his brow, a small frown turning his lips. Then he smiled. A sad, reluctant smile that made her frown guiltily. "I know," he said and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His gaze searched hers. "I love you, Marcy."

She pursed her lips. "I know."

He took her left hand in both of his and pressed a kiss to her ring finger.

Her breath hitched. She bit her lip, averting her eyes from his. Her chest was a chaos of aches and tightness and fluttering heartbeats even before he spoke the words.

"Will you fall in love with me?"

She thought her heart would burst. "You nerd, I already am," she muttered, grudgingly. She cast a quick glance at him, feeling the quickening beat of his pulse against her skin.

And he was grinning wide. He pushed himself into an upward seating position, and kissed her soundly. She looked positively frazzled— hair askew, cheeks pink, eyes wide— and he looked positively impish with the realization.

His warmth faded. And suddenly, she was clutching his shoulders, him hugging her close and smiling against her ear.

Desperately, she tried to ignore his tremors.

"So are we like soulmates now?" She managed to chuckle out.

"Soul—?" Finn didn't manage to finish his sentence, but Marcy knew what he was saying.

"Well, it's like a best friend, but more… It's the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else… It's someone who makes you a better person. Actually, they don't make you a better person, you do that yourself because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever."

There wasn't an answer for her, she knew it.

A smile had graced his face, his milky blue eyes still looking at her. Marcy blinked away fresh tears she glided her hand over his eyes; closing them forever.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here. I'm here."

And she stayed there, till the dawn started rising. Finn was cleaned up, his wounds more or less closed with Marceline's abilities. Her skin was already starting to warm up, the gentlest of sunlight starting to seep through the trees.

He looked peaceful, she noted.

"This isn't a goodbye, Finn. It's a see you later." She gave a kiss to his cheek and propped her battle-axe next to him and slowly made her way to the Candy Kingdom to inform Bubblegum and check on Jake.

The future seemed so bleak all of a sudden.

— **Scene Transition / Five Days** —

Oxygen rushed into his lungs.

His fingers twitched.

— **Author's Note** —

That's chapter 1 wrapped up! I hope that you all like this new take on Adventure Time, Finn and Marceline has always been a weak-spot of mine. I'm planning on this story to be slightly darker so, maybe the rating will change in future chapters, just a heads up! See you in the next chapter.


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